


Losing My Religion

by nyxxstay



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Boys In Love, Character Study, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fist Fights, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, Lee Minho | Lee Know is Whipped, M/M, Mentioned Bang Chan, Protective Lee Minho | Lee Know, Religious Discussion, but they're both adults, religious trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28832322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyxxstay/pseuds/nyxxstay
Summary: Jisung could clearly remember the day he first saw Minho. Ultimately, it was the day that his whole world changed, but it wasn’t as obvious at the time as you’d think. When people describe something in their life drastically changing, its always like a complete flip, a collapse of the norm, some sort of earth shattering revelation. But that’s not how it happened, not for Jisung; it was slow, like falling through a pit of molasses, cascading like the steady rise of volume in a symphony before it reaches its peak, and then it all hits you at once. One thing stacked onto another, stacked onto another, and onto another, until it’s suddenly too much and it all finally tumbles over. That was how Minho changed Jisung’s life, and yet somehow, it started with something as innocent as a glance across the bench during Sunday church.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 25
Kudos: 134
Collections: Be Kind: Rewind! | SKZ 90s Fic Fest





	Losing My Religion

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [SKZ 90s Ficfest](https://twitter.com/esskayzed90s), based on the song and MV for [Losing My Religion by R.E.M.](https://youtu.be/xwtdhWltSIg).
> 
> [Fic Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5lHqdMBCLiL1Gp5CXfYK2z?si=zlSpEmc0QlOFjBiy69M8mw)
> 
> **Additional Trigger Warnings**  
>  brief slur usage, homophobic families, mentions of conversion therapy, panic attacks, death threats

Jisung could clearly remember the day he first saw Minho. Ultimately, it was the day that his whole world changed, but it wasn’t as obvious at the time as you’d think. When people describe something in their life drastically changing, its always like a complete flip, a collapse of the norm, some sort of earth shattering revelation. But that’s not how it happened, not for Jisung; it was slow, like falling through a pit of molasses, cascading like the steady rise of volume in a symphony before it reaches its peak, and then it all hits you at once. One thing stacked onto another, stacked onto another, and onto another, until it’s suddenly too much and it all finally tumbles over. That was how Minho changed Jisung’s life, and yet somehow, it started with something as innocent as a glance across the bench during Sunday church.

Jisung was dressed in his Sunday best, a nice button up, slacks, dress shoes, hair combed back neatly as he sat beside his parents among the pews. It was normal like every Sunday, but yet it wasn’t quite the same, because on this day, a new family joined the church. The pastor had informed them that the Lee family had moved to town, and though Jisung didn’t take much interest in newcomers, he couldn’t help but notice them when they sat down right next to him.

Closest to him was a boy, appearing around his age with neatly parted, medium brown hair. He too donned a dress shirt, slacks, and shined shoes, along with a silver cross hanging from a chain on his neck, but as Jisung stole that small glance before service began, he noticed his clear, cat-like eyes. Jisung immediately determined that the new boy was remarkably pretty. For a boy.

His name was Minho, Jisung was told by his mother that afternoon at lunch (information she’d learned from gossip around the church), and he was apparently Jisung’s grade. They’d just moved from Gimpo for Mr. Lee’s job, and rumor had it Minho would even be attending Jisung’s school. Jisung had to admit he was mysteriously intrigued by the boy, though for what reason he couldn’t tell; not like Jisung would do anything about it seeing as he didn’t have any friends nor ever made attempts to make them, but he still find himself looking forward to perhaps seeing the pretty boy again at school.

Monday came quickly, and Jisung found himself even slightly excited when he saw the brunette step in front of one of his classes to introduce himself. Dressed in uniform, the cross hanging delicately from his neck as it caught the light from the window, and eyes glancing over his peers as he spoke in a soft, melodic voice, Minho definitely caused a few whispers around the room as he was seated in his assigned spot, sadly across the room from Jisung. It was obvious Jisung hadn’t been the only one to notice how attractive the new student was.

But his interactions with the Lee boy ended there. No conversations were struck up in between their shared classes, no stolen glances across the room (at least not on Minho’s part), no bumping together in the halls; this was no k-drama. Jisung noticed that Minho seemed to be smart, though he didn’t participate much in class aside from promptly answering questions directed to him by the teacher. Minho also tended to sit completely alone during lunch, eyes glancing around almost cautiously as he quickly ate his food and hurriedly left the room. Nobody seemed interested in talking to him or befriending him.

It wasn’t long before the first time Jisung saw Minho arrive at class with a bruise blooming on his cheek and a scabbed lip, followed throughout the day by rumors that Minho had gotten in a fight with some guys from another class in the bathroom on the third floor. Jisung hadn’t pegged the boy to be the troublemaking type, but he figured he couldn’t really say one way or another about the personality of a stranger he’d never spoken to.

Jisung wondered why he cared so much. He’d never talked to Minho, they didn’t have mutual friends, they hadn’t even exchanged glances since that first day at church. Why did he care about what Minho did in his free time, where he was eating, or what kind of student he was? There was no reason, but Jisung still found himself curious.

  
  


“Han Jisung and Lee Minho,” the teacher spoke the names of each student and their partners for the upcoming project, and Jisung had to resist the urge to fall out of his seat in surprise. It had been a month since Minho had joined Jisung’s school and church, and he had nearly managed to forget his curiosity about the boy, but now, they were apparently partners.

The teacher dismissed the students to meet up with their partners and discuss their plans for the project, and Jisung watched as Minho shuffled through the desks, sitting down in the empty seat beside him.

“Hi,” Jisung smiled at the boy. “I take it you’re my partner.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m Minho,” Minho seemed a bit awkward, nervous even as he watched Jisung with those cat-like eyes.

“Nice to meet you Minho. I’m Jisung.”

It was an innocent first meeting, the two exchanging numbers and deciding to start meeting at Jisung’s place twice a week in the evenings after school in order to work on the assignment. A few days later, the two began their work, Minho arriving as planned at the Han place shortly after dinner.

“Uh hi,” Minho said shyly as Jisung opened the door. 

“Hey, come on in,” the younger greeted in return. “We can go work in my room if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah that works.”

Jisung couldn’t help but notice how reserved and quiet Minho was, even now outside of the school atmosphere, tugging on the paws of his sweater and constantly adjusting the round glasses perched on his nose. Minho seemed almost scared of Jisung, and it caused the younger to frown a bit as they began working on the draft for the written portion of the assignment.

“Does this work?” Minho asked quietly, pointing to a paragraph he’d written and timidly glancing up at the younger.

Jisung leaned over, quickly reading what Minho had written before nodding. “Yeah I think that’s perfect!” Jisung smiled.

Minho nodded, eyes darting back down to his paper and scribbling more notes for the draft. Jisung chewed the inside of his cheek, deciding he wanted to help Minho feel a bit more at ease.

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked suddenly. Minho paused his writing, shaking his head without looking up. “We have a lot of leftovers from dinner, would you like some?”

Minho finally looked up, eyes cautious. “You don’t have to, it’s okay. I don’t want to be a hassle.”

“Nonsense!” Jisung stood up, heading to the door. “I’ll be right back with some food. Would you like water, or maybe soda?”

“Water would be great, thank you,” Minho finally responded after a moment, watching as Jisung left the bedroom.

Jisung didn’t take long to return with a plate of food and some water for the boy, and they decided to take a break as Minho ate.

“So I know you’re my grade, but how old are you?” Jisung asked.

“19.”

“So did your parents have you start a year late or something?”

Minho nodded. “Yeah, we were in the process of moving when I was old enough to start school so they held off until we were settled in.”

Jisung nodded in understanding. “So I also saw you at my church, have you always been religious or are you and your family new?” Minho looked at the younger with another cautious and calculating gaze. “You don’t have to answer,” Jisung quickly added. “I’m just curious is all. I was raised in the church so I was wondering what your experience is.”

“I was raised in the church, too,” Minho finally responded.

Jisung smiled widely. “Well I’m sure changing churches and moving is tough, so if you ever want someone to sit with during service besides your parents, you’re welcome to come sit with my family and I.”

Minho cast one final curious gaze before nodding, his dark hair bouncing at the movement. “Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.”

  
  
  


The project didn’t take many days of work to finish, but in those many shared hours, a friendship began to bloom. Minho was reserved, but began to open up with the younger over time, even walking with Jisung between their shared classes and occasionally joining him at service on Sundays. Jisung enjoyed watching and learning about Minho as he became warmer and less closed off, delighting in his infectious laugh and smile as they joked about the latest gossip on campus. Jisung quite enjoyed the shared moments, and though he’d never really been one to have friends, he was happy to have found a friend in Minho.

After the project ended, they still found ways and excuses to hang out after school at Jisung’s place. Working on homework, studying, or sometimes just playing video games (even though Minho was horrible at them) all became common pastimes in the confines of Jisung’s bedroom. It was simple, but Jisung wondered how he’d ever managed his life without having a social aspect in it, because now that he had Minho, he didn’t think he could go back to being a loner. And sure, the two weren’t  _ that  _ close, just acquaintance friends really, not sharing much with each other beyond the surface of who they were, but Jisung was fine with that. He was fine with just having someone to laugh with and spend some time with beyond his parents and the other people at church. Deep down, Jisung suspected he’d always wanted a friend, but figured it had been inconsequential since he was so focused on doing well in school so he could go to college. 

  
  


It wasn’t long, however, before things began to get a bit more complicated.

It was a normal day at church, Jisung seated beside his family and waiting for service to begin, when Minho and his parents walked down the aisle, taking a seat in the pew across from them. Minho glanced at Jisung, smiling warmly to his friend, a gesture that apparently didn’t go unnoticed by Jisung’s mom.

“I saw that Lee boy smile at you today,” she commented on the way home some hours later. “Are you two still friends?”

Jisung nodded. “Yeah, we hang out after school sometimes.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’ve heard weird things about that boy. He’s strange. You should stay away from him.”

“He’s perfectly normal, mom.”

She shook her head. “Mark my words, something is wrong with that boy. You shouldn’t associate with him.”

But of course, Jisung didn’t listen. He had no reason to believe there was anything wrong with Minho, that he shouldn’t be friends with him, so he continued to hang out with him between classes and sometimes after school. Jisung just thought his mom was being untrusting.

Until suddenly, he wasn’t so sure.

All it took was the notion from his mother for Jisung to become acutely aware of the whispers that followed his friends, whispers like those that arose around Minho when he first started school there, but darker, more scary and accusatory. Suddenly, Jisung began to notice that Minho didn’t seem to sit alone and not talk to people out of choice, but because people avoided him. Whatever Jisung’s mom had sensed or noticed about Minho that Jisung hadn’t, his peers seemed to have noticed it too. Perhaps it was related to the occasional fights Minho got into, or maybe something about his family that the younger was unaware of, Jisung wasn’t sure, but people were weary of Minho.

But why? Minho was sweet, funny, hard working, caring. He looked out for Jisung in small ways, made the younger smile and feel at ease. He had a beautifully contagious smile, and was even dedicated to God and their faith. What was there to not like about him?

Until finally, Jisung heard the one whisper that made him question it all, made him realize why everyone avoided Minho, and it was at church of all places, not school.

_ “I heard the Lee boy is a homosexual.” _

People thought Minho was gay. It all made sense. Why his mom didn’t want Jisung to associate with him, why people at school looked at him weird and avoided him, maybe even why Minho got in fights. But was it true? Rumors like that weren’t exactly uncommon, but they held a heavy weight in their town. Gay people were sinners, said to be influenced and tainted by the Devil. They were going to Hell, and no one wanted to associate themselves with a person that would choose that kind of fate.

Jisung tried to ignore the rumors, he really did, but eventually he couldn’t stop thinking about it, worrying about it. He’d never met someone who was gay, had no idea how to even behave around gay people, and if his friend really was a homosexual, didn’t he have a right to know?

Jisung thought so, at least.

“Hey Minho,” Jisung spoke up after staring at his unfinished homework for a good thirty minutes, having made no progress at all.

“Hmm?” the older responded with a hum, pausing his work to look up at Jisung on the floor beside him, cat-like eyes peering at him through the round lenses of his glasses.

“So, I, uh, I heard a rumor about you…”

Jisung couldn’t help but notice the way Minho tensed, the way the older’s knuckles turned white from his grip on his pencil, and the way Minho seemed to suddenly hold his breath.

“What rumor?” Minho’s voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes drifting down to his lap. Jisung swallowed, heart hammering in his chest.

“That you’re gay.” The words felt like lead on Jisung’s tongue, heavy and hard to force out.

Minho didn’t respond, clearly waiting for Jisung to say something further as he continued to stare down at his lap rather than up at the younger.

“Is it true? Are you gay, Minho?”

Minho took a sudden breath. “And what if it is?” Minho finally looked back up, and Jisung was shocked at the obvious fear in the older’s eyes. Jisung didn’t understand the look.

“I, well I just-” Jisung stumbled over his words, trying to formulate a coherent response. What if it was true? Jisung hadn’t thought that far, he just wanted to know the truth, but perhaps deep down Jisung had hoped the rumors were false, and that Minho was normal like him. He hadn’t wanted to think about the possibility of his friend actually being gay. Was that wrong of him?

“I…” Minho spoke after a long silence between the two. “I am gay, Jisung. The rumors are true.” Minho’s eyes were unreadable as the older watched Jisung for a reaction.

“Oh.” It was the only response Jisung could manage.

Minho snorted at the word. “‘Oh.’ I don’t know what else I should have expected. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” Minho’s mouth set into a firm line as he began to stand up. 

“Wait, where are you going?” Jisung asked as Minho grabbed his bag.

Minho sighed. “I’m going home. It’s clear you aren’t comfortable being friends with me now that you know the truth. Thank you, though. It was nice while it lasted.”

“Minho.” Jisung’s hand shot out before he could think, fingers wrapping firmly around the older boy’s wrist and causing Minho to pause in his tracks, looking back to gaze at Jisung with confusion. Jisung took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I.. I’ve never met a gay person before, so I’m sorry if my response was weird. Can we at least… talk about it? I want to understand.”

“I’m not some lab experiment, Jisung.”

“No, you’re a person. You’re Minho.” Jisung sighed, tugging gently on Minho’s wrist. “Please.”

Why was Jisung so insistent, why did he care? He could’ve let Minho walk out and leave his life, and not be caught up in all of Minho’s problems and the drama involving his sexuality, but was that what Jisung wanted? Jisung considered Minho a friend, and maybe, deep down, Jisung was curious about Minho’s sexuality. Not that he could ever be gay, but all he’d ever learned about it was from Sunday service, so maybe he just wanted to learn about it from a different perspective. That was all, right?

Minho relented, slowly sitting down beside Jisung again, although this time with a notable distance between them. “What is it you want to know?”

There were so many things, so many questions. Where did Jisung even start?

There was one that came to him first.

“How can you worship Him and be gay?”

Minho snorted. “I take it you were taught the same thing I was, that gay people hate God or don’t believe in him.” Minho took another deep breath, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. “That isn’t true, at least not for some of us. I’m sure there are gay peole that are atheist or apart of other religions, but for those of us that do worship Him, we love him as much as you do. I don’t worship the Devil, I go to church every Sunday, I pray…”

“Then why would you choose to be gay?”

“It’s not a choice,” Minho shook his head. “Believe me, I wouldn’t have chosen this for myself, and I spent so many years hating myself for it. I tried, and tried and tried, to force myself to like girls and to pretend I wasn’t gay, I prayed so hard, I begged for Him to fix me, but nothing changed.” Minho’s knuckles were white again, tightly gripping the hem of his shirt while his teeth worried his lower lip raw. “I came to a conclusion, after a long time, that being gay isn’t a choice, and that God made me this way, on purpose, which is why he wouldn’t fix me. He doesn’t make mistakes, I was meant to be this way.”

“If that’s true, then why does the Bible speak against homosexuals?” Jisung’s mind felt like it was frying, seeing the obvious torment and pain in Minho’s eyes, it didn’t match up with anything he’d ever been told. Minho was a good servant of God, that was obvious, and he was clearly once tormented by the fact that he couldn’t force himself to be straight, so how could he be a sinner? Why wouldn’t God help him? 

Minho chuckled. “Well there’s some theories about that. Biased translations of the word of God is the most likely answer.” He looked back down at Jisung beside him. “If I’m going to Hell, then the fact remains that I did everything I could to serve Him. I can’t change this, I can’t change who I am, and I refuse to torment myself anymore over it. It was the most miserable I’d ever been in my life, and I’d never wish it on anyone.”

Jisung could at least feel relieved. He was still confused, but at least he now knew that Minho wasn’t possessed or anything, so there was that.

“So, is this why you sometimes get in fights at school?” Jisung watched Minho snort once more at the question.

“More like get the shit beat out of me, but to put it simply, yes.”

Jisung’s eyebrows knit in confusion.

“You can’t be that dense, Sung. You know being gay isn’t exactly socially accepted around here. People found out pretty quickly about my history at my last school, rumors followed, and then the fights started. Guys get mad at me for even glancing in their direction, think I’m checking them out or something, and so they try to hurt me. I defend myself. That’s all it is.”

“But that’s… that’s so wrong. Have you gone to the school?” Jisung didn’t know what else to say beyond that. If people were hurting Minho solely for being gay, that was horrible, it was wrong and unfair.

Minho shrugged. “The school doesn’t care. I’m gay, and as far as they’re concerned, they’d be better off if I wasn’t around anymore. They see me as a hazard to other students anyway.”

“A hazard? Why?”

“They think being gay is contagious or something, that I’m gonna make other people gay.”

Jisung’s eyes widened at the thought. “Is that possible?”

Minho actually laughed, a smile breaking on the older’s face for the first time all evening. “No, Jisung, it’s not possible. You aren’t going to turn gay from being around me. If someone is gay, they’re gay, and if they’re not, they’re not. Being around a gay person won’t change that.”

Jisung tried not to sigh in relief. “So how should I… treat you? Do you not want me to stand as close or like…?”

Minho shook his head with a small smile. “Treat me the same way you would any other person. I’m no different from you, I’m just not attracted to women is all. Treat me the way you’ve always treated me.”

“Okay, I can do that.” Jisung nodded.

Minho smiled once more, looking back towards the younger. “Thank you, Jisung. For listening to me. Do you still want to be friends?”

Did he still want to be friends? Minho made Jisung happy, even though their friendship was new and not very close. He was a good person, he worshiped God and went to church. So maybe he was gay, and maybe Jisung didn’t exactly agree with that lifestyle, but he wouldn’t cut Minho off because of it. Minho didn’t choose it, and Jisung decided that he could look past it.

Jisung smiled. “Yeah, I still want to be friends.”

  
  


Things only got stranger for Jisung after that. The two got closer, began sharing things about their personal lives, about their families and homes, their thoughts about people at church, their fears and insecurites. It started off small, before it grew and grew. Their little friendship had become deeper after Minho finally came out to Jisung, it felt like Minho was fully himself now in front of the younger, no longer had to hide from him. Jisung was glad he could be that person for Minho, be the one person Minho could be wholely himself around.

They spent almost all their free time together, between classes, lunch, after school. Jisung eventually learned that Minho’s parents weren’t all that supportive of his sexuality, so the older would take any chance he could to be away from home and stay off their radar, and Jisung was always happy to supply a place to hang out. There was something about Minho, something so charming and sweet, warm like the summer sun. Minho could be doing nothing at all, but just by being there, Jisung felt at ease, calm, happy. It was nice, to finally have a friend.

Friends. That’s all they were, Jisung was sure. Friends who talked late into the night on days off, friends who threw their arms over each other’s shoulders while they walked, talked, and laughed, friends who shared fond glances at one another and gentle smiles. 

“I don’t want you around that boy,” Jisung’s mom had told him one evening that Minho hadn’t come over. “He’s tainted by the Devil, Jisung.”

“He loves God, mom,” Jisung assured nonchalantly. 

“He would laugh in the face of God with the lifestyle he lives,” she responded, venom in her words. “Man with man, it's unholy, unnatural. Men like him are dangerous, they’re rapists Jisung.”

Jisung was silent, not really wanting to further argue with his mother to explain why he was still friends with a gay man. Sure it was wrong in the eyes of God, but Minho was still a good person. That should be important too, Jisung believed.

“His poor parents. To have a homosexual for a son, I’d be so embarassed I could never show my face again.”

Why did Jisung’s chest feel tight? Why was her words feeling like repetitive stabs to the heart? He’d heard her say things like this before and had never thought much of it, so why did it suddenly bother him? He wasn’t gay, and Minho wasn’t her son, so it shouldn’t concern him what she thought about gay people because Jisung was straight. 

Right. Jisung was straight. 

  
  


“Did you get in another fight again?” Jisung asked, sitting down across from Minho at the table in the dining hall, noticing a distinct scrape across his cheek and clearly bruised knuckles. Minho shrugged.

“Only one guy. Men’s bathroom on the first floor.”

Jisung sighed. “I wish they would leave you alone. I’m about to start coming with you to the bathroom if it means getting them to lay off.”

Minho shook his head with a small smile. “You start spending much more time with me and people are gonna start thinking you’re gay too,” he warned. “But honestly, it’s okay. That’s why I learned to box, so I can defend myself.”

“You shouldn’t have to defend yourself.” Jisung poked at the food on his tray with his fork.

“Yeah, but that’s the world we live in.”

Jisung glanced up and caught Minho’s gaze, and for a moment, it felt like the world froze. Jisung’s heart leapt into his throat, breath catching as he noticed just how beautiful Minho’s eyes looked with the sunlight coming through the windows, how his long lashes framed them and dusted his cheeks. And his lips, his lips were upturned into the smallest smile, soft and plump, and momentarily, Jisung wondered what they tasted like, what it would be like to kiss a boy, to kiss Minho.

Jisung snapped from his daze nearly as soon as it began, muttering something about needing to pee before rushing off to the bathroom, leaving Minho behind in confusion and concern. The younger’s steps echoed through the halls, door creaking as he rushed into the bathroom. He all but collapsed in front of the nearest sink, splashing cold water onto his face and gripping the porcelain edges with white knuckles.

What was he even thinking, why would he think something like that about a boy, about Minho? Minho was his friend, his best friend, and Minho was gay. Jisung wasn’t gay, Jisung didn’t like guys. He was straight, he’d always been straight, and normal, and exactly what God wanted him to be. His thoughts of kissing Minho were wrong, sinful, he could go to Hell for that. His parents would disown him for even thinking of such a thing. Jisung shook his head, looking himself in the eyes through the mirror.

Maybe Minho had lied, maybe he could turn gay from being around the older. But Minho wasn’t malicious, Minho was caring and thoughtful, kind, funny. He wouldn’t try to hurt Jisung, especially not like that.

It didn’t matter, Jisung decided, because he wasn’t turning gay. He liked Minho as his friend, and that thought would be the last one he’d ever have of him with a boy. He’d just pray extra hard on Sunday. 

  
  


Regardless of Jisung’s determination, he still avoided Minho a bit in the following days. He would still talk to him and walk together between a few classes, but didn’t go out of his way to spend all his time with him like he usually did, didn’t invite Minho over after school, and on their days off, didn’t call him to kill time and chat.

For once though, one evening, it was Minho who called first, ringing Jisung’s home phone. Thankfully, Jisung had been in the kitchen when it went off, the brunette wiping his hands from washing the dishes on the nearest towel before answering.

“Han residence, who is this?”

“Jisungie?”

Jisung froze at the voice. “Minho?” Minho never called first, knowing full well Jisung’s parents didn’t like him, and his voice sounded… different. Hushed, maybe even scared.

“I-I’m sorry for calling, but I… I need your help. Some people attacked me on my way home and I’m… I think they’re still following me. I’m not safe and I n-need someone to come pick me up.”

Jisung could hear the slight tremble in the older’s voice, and it only served to make the fist around Jisung’s heart squeeze tighter, making it hard to breathe and his mind race. He’d never heard Minho sound scared, and the thought that people were following him, trying to hurt him… Jisung was afraid he’d descend into a full blown panic if he didn’t calm himself down.

“I’ll come get you,” Jisung responded, voice thick with suppressed emotion. “Where are you?”

“I- shit I don’t know. I don’t know, I got lost while running and I took some weird turns. I’ve never been here I don’t know where I am I-”

“Min, breathe, please breathe,” Jisung shushed the older, noticing how fast and jumbled Minho’s words were as he tried to explain how he’d lost his bearings. “You’re using a payphone right?”

“Y-yeah.”

“So you’re probably near some stores by the street. Can you tell me what they are?”

Minho paused for a moment, probably taking a look at his surroundings before responding. “There’s a convenience store with a big red star across the street from me. I can’t read the name from here…”

Jisung’s eyes widened. “I know where that is! Minho, find somewhere safe to hide and I’ll be there as soon as I can. Okay?”

“O-okay. Thank you.”

Jisung was sure he would’ve been pulled over for speeding had a cop seen him, but he really didn’t care. He’d never felt so scared, so gut wrenchingly worried about the safety of someone he cared about. Minho got in fights, it wasn’t uncommon, but Jisung thought it was just a school thing. He’d never dreamed of him getting mixed up in that kind of thing outside of school grounds, late at night when no one was around to stop it.

Jisung’s car screeched to a halt at the curb by the payphone across from the little red star store, eyes peering around the dimly lit street before nearly jumping out of his skin as the passenger side door swung open. The panic quickly subsided to relief though, as Jisung saw the ever familiar messy brown hair of his best friend.

Jisung had seen the aftermath of some of Minho’s fights before, but never like this. They’d never been this bad, never before had Minho looked so abhorrently beat up. His shirt was ripped, lip busted and bleeding, and there was even more blood trickling down from the older’s hairline. Whatever kind of fight this had been, Minho clearly hadn’t been able to defend himself as well as usual, and that was a terrifying thought.

“Thank you for picking me up,” Minho whispered after a moment, eyes cast down to his busted knuckles in his lap.

“Of course,” Jisung nodded, putting the car back into drive and beginning down the road. “Do you want me to take you home?”

Minho was quiet for a moment. “My parents are home…” He finally said. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for them to see me like this.”

“We can go to my place then.”

“No it’s okay, you don’t have to do that.” Minho shook his head.

“And do what? Leave you on the street? You’re hurt, badly. I’m taking you to my place.”

“What about your parents?” 

“They’re out of town until tomorrow.” Jisung glanced over to Minho, who’s gaze was still lowered in apparent shame. “You can stay at my place if you need.”

Minho relented, and before long, Jisung was seating Minho on the toilet of his family’s bathroom, a first aid kit and damp cloth prepared. He started with the crimson liquid trickling down the side of Minho’s face, dabbing it away until he found the source, a deep gash in the side of the older’s head.

“What the hell did they do to you?” Jisung asked with a deep frown.

Minho hissed as the cloth brushed the wound. “Slammed my head into a brick wall…”

Jisung’s hand froze over the wound, eyes widening in horror at the thought of someone doing such a thing to Minho. He bit his lip, continuing to carefully clean it. “How many were there?” He asked after finishing with the head wound, beginning to gently wipe the dried blood from Minho’s lip. He could clearly see where the older’s cheek was beginning to swell, obvious signs of what would become a nasty bruise and possibly black eye.

“Six. I was walking home through downtown and one of them grabbed me from the alley. Before I could fight back or get away they were all on me, knocking me to the ground, kicking me, punching me. It took everything I had to get enough leverage fighting back just to manage to run from them.”

“You were downtown? Isn’t downtown pretty populated even at this time of night? Why didn’t anyone come help?” Jisung wondered as he began to delicately wrap Minho’s busted knuckles.

“Because I’m  _ gay _ , Jisung,” Minho’s voice was clipped, almost angry even at the oblivious question. “No one around here is going to stop to help a gay person. I could be getting murdered in the street in broad daylight and no one would care. As far as they’re concerned, I deserve it, I deserve to be beaten in an alley, to be spit on and called horrible names. That’s why I learned to fight, because no one else will come to my aid. No one.”

Minho’s voice turned from angry to dejected, obvious pain invading his words at the admittance of no one caring about his existence. It hurt to hear. Jisung had never really realized just how hard it must’ve been for Minho, to be alone all this time, to have to fight just because people hated him for what he was. It was wrong.

Jisung tucked the supplies of the first aid kit away in the cupboard, worrying his lip between his teeth.

“I was so scared…”

Minho had barely whispered it, but Jisung heard it clear as day, immediately turning and heart wrenching horribly at the sight of Minho seeming to curl in on himself, eyes becoming distant and fearful.

“They were so angry,” he continued. “They just kept yelling and hitting me, kicking me so hard it was difficult to breathe. I thought they were going to kill me.”

Jisung crouched in front of Minho, unsure of what he could even do to offer comfort to his friend other than just be there.

“I’m always scared, Jisung. Not a moment goes by where I’m not afraid, afraid to be alone, afraid to be around all these people who hate me just for existing. I learned to fight so that I could defend myself, so that I could be safe, but it wasn’t enough, it's never enough. I’m so afraid of the day someone is really going to have it out for me, and they’re going to take it too far, and they’ll kill me. I’m going to become another stupid statistic, another dead gay person found on the street.” Minho finally looked up, and Jisung couldn’t miss the way the older’s lip trembled as a tear slipped from his eye.

Jisung did the only thing he could think of, pulling the older into a tight hug as the faintest sob escaped Minho’s throat. Minho’s hands found purchase in Jisung’s hoodie, gripping it tightly as though the older were afraid Jisung would slip away, as the younger rubbed circles into Minho’s back, softly whispering comforting words in his ear.

Minho cried so hard Jisung swore the boy would shatter to pieces in his arms, tears soaking through Jisung’s hoodie and shirt while his face buried into Jisung’s shoulder, and all Jisung could do was hold him, sitting on the bathroom floor, silent tears falling down his cheeks at the full realization of what Minho had to go through, how cruelly the world treated him. Minho was strong, stronger than anyone Jisung had ever met, but even strong people have to let their walls down, their armor getting chipped away with every rock thrown. That was what Jisung was witnessing, the vulnerability behind that armor, the fear, the pain, the uncertainty. The idea that Minho had to live with this every day, spent his hours afraid for his life all because of his sexuality, it shook Jisung deeply. 

Yeah, Jisung was certain now, there was no way being gay was a choice. No one would ever choose to live their life like this, to have to be traumatized and afraid like this. Jisung wouldn’t wish this on his worst enemy.

Minho’s sobs eventually faded, and Jisung led the older to his bedroom, giving the boy a change of clothes to sleep in and leading him to his bed. Minho was rather quiet now, eyes distant and features stoic as Jisung settled him under the comforter. Jisung sat for a moment, debating on where he should sleep, before deciding that his friend needed comfort more than his heterosexual pride needed validation. Crawling under the covers, Jisung allowed Minho to curl up against him, wrapping a comforting and protective arm around his best friend’s waist.

Minho sleepily thanked him before quickly dozing off, allowing Jisung to watch the boy in the dim light peering through his curtains from the street lamps. Despite the scabbed lip and swelling bruises, Minho was still breathtakingly beautiful, lashes caressing his cheeks, hair messily splayed over his forehead. Soft breaths came in and out, the older’s chest rising and falling with each one, and Jisung couldn’t help the overwhelming fondness overtaking his heart. 

Minho was such a good person. He was so caring and kind; why did the world have to be so cruel to him? Why did God have to make him gay, make him go through this torment? Jisung had never truly realized how much danger Minho was in, but seeing Minho hurt like he was, seeing him break down over the encounter because of his fear for his life, terrified Jisung. The thought of Minho winding up dead someday had never crossed his mind before, but now it was all Jisung could think about, and he felt a little sick. He didn’t want anything bad to happen to his friend, didn’t want him to hurt anymore. Realistically, he knew there wasn’t much he could do to protect Minho, but the thought remained, the overwhelming urge to want to protect Minho, to shield him from harm, to keep him safe in his arms for as long as he could. 

Jisung fell asleep, holding Minho tightly in his arms, and praying for a way to make things better.

  
  


Jisung woke with a start to the sound of the front door lock of his family’s home clicking, followed by the creak of the door and familiar voices.

_ His parents _ . They weren’t supposed to be home until later in the afternoon, but low and behold, they were back.

_ And Jisung had a gay boy sleeping with him in his bed. _

In a panic, Jisung quickly shook Minho awake, the older boy gazing at his friend in confusion through sleepy eyes.

“My parents are home,” Jisung whispered urgently. “You have to hide.”

Minho stared for a moment, probably still trying to understand what was happening in his tired daze, before nodding and quickly beginning to crawl off the bed. Jisung followed suit, darting across the room to open his closet and shove things out of the way so Minho could get inside.

Jisung was just closing the closet door when his bedroom door swung open, revealing none other than his mother.

“M-morning mom,” Jisung stuttered, doing his best to not act like he had just spent the night cuddling with his best friend and then had to shove him in the closet.

Her eyes narrowed, glancing around the room as though looking for something wrong. “Your father and I are going to the store, we’ll be back soon.” Her eyes wandered to Jisung’s bed, clearly noticing the way the sheets were thrown haphazardly across it. “Make your bed before we come back.”

“Yeah, sure thing!”

Jisung waited with baited breath for a few more minutes, listening for the sound of the front door closing and locking, before he was finally able to breathe again, sighing as he opened the closet door. Minho stood at the doorway, eyes wide as he bit his lip.

“Are they gone?” he whispered.

Jisung nodded. “They’re gone, you can come out now.”

Minho’s lips quirked into a small smile as he stepped out, seating himself on Jisung’s bed. “I’m coming out of the closet.”

Jisung couldn’t help but also smile at the cheesy joke. “How are you feeling?”

Minho shrugged. “Sore. I’m really sorry about last night.” He glanced up at Jisung. “I shouldn’t have put all my fears on you like that. It’s not your job to take care of me and I shouldn’t have-”

“Min,” Jisung cut the older off softly, placing a soft hand over Minho’s as he sat down beside him. “You have nothing to apologize for. You were scared, and everyone needs to let things out sometimes or one day they’re just going to explode. You clearly have been through a lot, and who’s going to listen to you if not your best friend, yeah?”

Minho looked at the younger with wide, soft eyes, before flipping his hand in Jisung grasp and lacing their fingers together with a gentle squeeze. He didn’t notice the way Jisung’s heart rate increased at the action. “Thank you, Jisungie.”

Jisung squeezed his hand back. “Of course,” he reassured. “And I’m glad that you trusted me enough to call me last night, to tell me what was going on. I’m glad I was able to help. If you ever feel unsafe again, please don’t hesitate to call me, okay?”

Minho nodded before resting his head on Jisung’s shoulder. “I will. I promise.”

  
  


Minho went home quickly after, the younger insisting to drive him rather than let him walk for fear that maybe the boys who had attacked him were still wandering around. Jisung made the decision that day that he would do everything he could to keep the older safe. So he did.

Jisung began going everywhere with Minho, not to the point where he was acting clingy, but he made an effort to really look for and stick with his friend, especially in between classes and after school, which seemed to be the most common times for assholes to appear. Jisung also began inviting Minho over a lot more, doing his best to give Minho something to do in the hours he was avoiding his parents, so that the older didn’t have to wander around town on his own as much. If Jisung couldn’t have him over because of his parents, then Jisung would go out and wander town with him. Anything to make sure Minho didn’t have to be alone.

Minho seemed to really appreciate the effort and gestures. It was obvious that Jisung had taken Minho’s fears to heart and it had finally really sunk in the kind of life Minho was forced to live, the danger he was in. 

Jisung swore to himself that the only reason he was spending so much time with the older boy was because he was concerned about his safety, convinced himself that he only enjoyed his company because they were friends. Best friends could share warm hugs, could hold hands when they needed a bit of comfort, could hang on each other and share glances of adoration and affection, right? It was totally normal, best friend things, Jisung swore. He found himself seeking Minho’s smile because he just wanted to see his friend happy, and got lost in his eyes because, well, everyone could see how gorgeous Minho’s eyes were. 

Minho was gay. Jisung wasn’t. Jisung was normal, a servant of God, a good kid. He could never be gay. He wasn’t gay. It was okay for Minho to be gay, but Jisung could never.

Things stayed that way for a while, the shared smiles, cuddling, soft gazes, whispered secrets. They lived in their own little world, despite the danger Minho faced because of what he was. It was a perfect bubble, but Jisung couldn’t help but feel like it was leading somewhere, like there was a destination they were going to arrive at, but where that was, he didn’t know. He tried not to think about it.

Until finally, that fateful day and dreaded destination arrived.

Minho had come over one evening to play video games. Jisung’s parents were out with some other people from church, and though they told him not to have anyone over, as usual, he didn’t listen, because he couldn’t not have Minho over on their day off. Going more than a day without spending time with the older nearly felt like a sin at this point.

They sat on Jisung’s bed, laughing, joking around, purposely trying to sabotage the other’s gameplay, until finally, Minho sighed and tossed his controller to the ground.

“Okay, you win,” he laughed. “I’m tired of getting my ass kicked.”

Jisung smiled widely, also tossing aside his controller. “The more we play the better you’ll get.”

“The more we play the more your ego will grow,” Minho shot back with a snide smile. His hand smacked Jisung on the thigh playfully, but stayed there. Jisung felt warmth spread through his body at the touch, but didn’t dare remove it.

He looked over at the older boy, smiling softly. “Did I ever tell you that I love your smile?”

Minho’s eyes widened a bit. “You do?” he spluttered, a blush rising to his cheeks. Jisung thought it was cute.

“Yeah,” Jisung replied. “You have a very nice smile, it makes me happy to see it.”

Minho tilted his head, eyes sparkling in the lamp light and a soft smile curling his soft lips. He was quiet for a moment before deciding to ask what was on his mind. “If we were frogs, would you share a lilypad with me?”

It was such an innocent question, one that made Jisung giggle delightfully. “Well we aren’t frogs, so what kind of question is that?”

Minho smiled wider. “But what if we were?” Minho fluttered his eyes teasingly, moving his face close to Jisung’s. “Would you share a lilypad with me Jisungie?”

Jisung laughed. “Yes,” he relented. “I’d share a lilypad with you.”

Jisung wasn’t sure if it was his admittance, or maybe the gentle hand on his thigh, perhaps even how close Minho had moved his face, but in that moment, something shifted, the air becoming thick with something almost tangible, a tension or emotion. He couldn’t help but be so aware of how comfortable Minho’s hand felt on his leg, how it sent tingles up his spine, or of how Minho’s tongue darted out ever so slightly to wet his plush pink lips. Minho’s eyes, Jisung could swear, held a galaxy in them, absolutely captivating the younger as he stared. Minho was beautiful, a work of art, angelic.

Even for a boy.

The moment only lasted for a second, before, slowly, at a torturous pace, Minho closed the distance. His lips ghosted over Jisung’s, a mere whisper, before Jisung pushed a little further, meeting the boy in a gentle, sweet kiss. The hand on Jisung’s thigh squeezed a little bit as his other cupped the younger’s chin, tilting his head to make his lips easier to access. Jisung had never kissed anyone before, never having interest in any of the girls who’d approached him, but Minho was so perfect, Jisung didn’t think anyone could taste as sweet as this.

Jisung was kissing Minho, and deep down, he knew he had wanted this for a long time, had wanted to taste Minho’s lips, feel how soft they were against his own, wanted to hold him close, feel his skin under his hands, but it wasn’t long, mere seconds, before his longing was drowned out by alarm bells in his head. 

_ This is a sin. _

_ He’s a boy. _

_ I’m not gay. _

_ I’ll go to Hell. _

_ This is wrong. _

Panic rose in his chest like bile, and Jisung shoved Minho off of him with a muffled cry of protest, scrambling backwards across the bed and away from the older. Jisung brought a shaking hand up to his lips, breathing heavily as his wide eyes stared at Minho with shock.

“Shit,” Minho cursed. “Jisung, I’m so sorry, I… I thought…”

“Why would you do that?” The younger whispered.

“Sung, I swear-”

_ “Why would you do that?!” _ Jisung’s voice rose in volume and pitch, practically in hysterics as he screamed at the boy across the bed. Minho’s mouth clamped shut. “Why would you kiss me? It’s wrong, I…” Realization dawned on him. “My mom was right, wasn’t she? You were trying to taint me this whole time!”

“Jisung, no,” Minho shook his head with sad eyes. “That’s not what I wanted. You’re my friend…” He reached a gentle hand towards Jisung, only for the younger to swat it away and clamber off the bed, standing as far from Minho as possible as angry, panicked tears began to streak down his cheeks.

“Then why did you kiss me?!”

“Because you wanted me to, and because I like you!” Minho pleaded. “Jisung please, I know it’s hard with how we’ve been raised, believe me I know, but I see how you look at me. I know I’m not imagining this, I know you feel the same.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I’m not. Sung, I know I’m not.”

_ “You’re wrong!” _ Jisung screamed, choking back on sobs that were trying their damndest to free themselves from his chest. “I’m not gay! I’m not a- I’m not a f-”

No matter how angry Jisung was, no matter how loud his mind screamed at him that this was wrong, he couldn’t physically form his mouth around the vile word he had tried to spew. But it was too late, and by the way Minho’s features morphed into hurt, it was obvious the damage had been done regardless.

“Minho, that’s- I’m sorry, I-”

Minho shook his head, cutting Jisung off as he stood up from his position on the bed. “I get it,” he chuckled humorlessly. “You aren’t a faggot like me, right?”

“Minho-”

“I’ll leave you alone now. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

And like that, Minho left, leaving Jisung a sobbing, shaking mess on his bedroom floor.

  
  


The next month or so was Hell on earth for Jisung. 

He cried more tears that he had in his whole life, sobs shaking his body for hours after Minho left, and many times more for days after. He felt sick to his stomach, confused, disgusting. 

Jisung prayed more in that month than he had in years, begging for God to forgive him for his sins, to erase his transgressions and still allow him into Heaven. He didn’t want to be condemned to Hell, he was afraid of it, afraid of His wrath for committing such a sin. Every Sunday at church he would silently pray to God for His forgiveness, but even sitting in the pews he felt wrong, felt like he was dirty, like he would go up in flames even setting foot into the holy place. Homosexuals were unnatural, sinners, horrible people. Maybe Jisung should’ve listened to the warnings.

He had never felt so confused, confused about his own feelings, his thoughts, his actions. He had wanted Minho to kiss him, in that brief moment, Jisung wanted it so bad it hurt. That alone was sinful enough, but he had  _ liked it _ too. Jisung had wanted to kiss Minho more than just those short seconds, wanted to feel his soft lips against his again, wanted his hands on Jisung’s waist and pulling him close as they lost themselves in the taste of each other. He’d never wanted something,  _ someone _ , more than he wanted Minho, but it was wrong, he knew it was wrong, he’d been taught it was wrong his whole life.

But no matter how hard he prayed, the desires didn’t stop, the thoughts, the dreams, the ache in his heart wouldn’t go away. He’d been good his whole life, so why was God giving up on him when he was begging for His help and guidance? Why wasn’t he being cleansed of his sins and forgetting about his sinful lust for a boy? Wasn’t God supposed to fix him, help him? Jisung had given his whole life to serve God, but now he had nothing, nothing but confusion and pain.

And he’d hurt Minho. Minho’s pain stricken face, the hurt in his eyes at the realization of the word Jisung had nearly spit at him, it spun in Jisung’s mind like a broken VCR. It made Jisung’s heart tear itself apart, knowing that Minho had trusted him with his fears, his pain, his past, and Jisung had thrown it back at him, hurting him more than possibly any other person. Jisung had wanted to be the one to protect Minho, to be there for him, to understand him when no one else did, but then he’d pushed him away in the cruelest way possible. Minho had shown him his most vulnerable side, and Jisung might as well have laughed in his face.

Not only was Jisung a sinner, but he was a terrible person too. Maybe that’s why God wouldn’t help him; he didn’t deserve His forgiveness.

Jisung was forced to watch from afar as Minho would arrive at class with blooming bruises and split lips once more. The older avoided him, of course, pretending Jisung didn’t exist in the classes they shared, and the few times their eyes did meet, Jisung’s sad gaze was met with an emotionless, cold stare. The sparkling, warm eyes of his best friend were gone, replaced with those of a stranger, of someone who didn’t trust him anymore. Jisung would rather have his heart ripped out of his chest.

He didn’t know what to do anymore, didn’t know how he was supposed to feel or act. He could turn his back on Minho, focus on his faith and pray for forgiveness that he hoped would be granted in time, but was that what he really wanted? Deep down, Jisung knew that even though he was raised to do just that, he would regret it for the rest of his life, regret turning his back on his friend that needed him so badly. And what if what Minho feared really did come to pass, and someone tried to kill him? If something happened to Minho, and Jisung wasn’t there to protect him, to stand by him, Jisung would never be able to forgive himself.

But most importantly, Jisung wanted Minho. He missed him, missed his smile, his laugh, his eyes, his jokes. He missed how bad the older was at video games, how he’d secretly steal bites of Jisung’s food at lunch when he thought the younger wasn’t looking, how their hands would brush together when they walked. Minho made Jisung happy, happier than he’d ever been, happier than any girl ever would. Jisung didn’t want to settle down and marry a girl someday like his parents and the church wanted, Jisung wanted Minho. He wanted to kiss his sweet lips, hold his soft hands, curl up in bed with him at night, wake up to his soft breathing and tousled hair in the morning. Everything about the boy, Jisung desired it more than anything else.

But what was he willing to give up for it? Could he give up his parents, the church, his faith, his reputation with the town and the school? What about future employers, college? Was he willing to go to Hell for a boy?

The answer Jisung came to, after so many sleepless nights of thought, was yes. If his parents would stop loving him because of who he loved, like they threatened, then he couldn’t live with people like that in his life. Love between a parent and child shouldn’t be conditional. If the church would turn their back on a fellow child of God for who they loved, then Jisung would find another church, or worship on his own. His reputation in town and at school was already trashed due to his friendship with Minho, but what they thought didn’t matter. And for college and a future job, well, Jisung would just have to keep his personal life on the downlow. It wasn’t their business who he loved anyway.

And God? Well, Jisung kept coming back to what Minho had once told him:  _ “God made me this way on purpose.” _ God doesn’t make mistakes, and being gay wasn’t a choice, clearly. If God made him to be gay, made Minho to be gay, then maybe they were supposed to meet, supposed to be brought together. God would love his children no matter what, Jisung had to believe that now.

And if,  _ if _ , it wasn’t true, if God really would condemn his children for who they loved, then why would he want to serve someone like that. He was what made Jisung afraid of his parents, made him afraid for Minho’s safety. God was the reason those people beat up Minho, the reason Minho’s parents pretend he doesn’t exist, the reason his family threatened to disown him. If God hated homosexuals, then his word was the cause of so much violence, pain, sorrow, and even death, and that wasn’t what the God he was raised to love would want. Hatred wasn’t what they preached.

Jisung made his decision, now he had to hope that Minho could find it in his heart to forgive him.

  
  


Jisung hadn’t meant to end up behind the school one evening after classes were out, and if you asked him, he’d tell you it was a complete accident, but deep down, Jisung was hoping he’d be able to run into Minho. It’d been over a week since he’d come to his conclusion, about who he was, about everything that had happened, but Minho was quite skillful at avoiding him. He’d spent the extra time internally rehearsing the best way to apologize for what he’d said and done, but he was beginning to wonder if he’d ever actually have the chance to talk to Minho again.

Until that day.

That day, Jisung was walking through the back alleys, stilling in his movement at the sound of footsteps and shouting. Then he heard a voice, the melodic, honey voice of none other than the boy he’d been seeking. Jisung followed it down a few turns, coming up on what appeared to be a small fight, one of Jisung’s classmates was attempting to pin Minho’s shoulders to the wall while the other, an underclassman, attempted to land blows to Minho, though rather unsuccessfully.

“Hey!” Jisung shouted as he came up on them, and as he got closer to the three, he realized he recognized the one trying to hit Minho. His eyes narrowed on the boy. “You're the Choi boy, aren’t you?”

“What’s it to you?” the kid spat at him, clearly annoyed that they were interrupted.

“Your parents go to church with me and my family. Do you think your mom would approve of you beating people up in a back alley?”

The boy glared, but began to back off with an annoyed sigh. He looked at his buddy and nodded for them to leave. “Let’s get out of here.”

The second boy let go of Minho and the two took off down the alley, leaving Jisung and Minho alone in the fading sunset light. Minho sighed, running a hand over his face.

“I didn’t need your help,” Minho commented, not even sparing a glance at the younger boy, “but thanks.” He turned on his heel away from Jisung, beginning to walk away.

“Minho, wait,” Jisung pleaded. This was the most they’d spoken in over a month, and it was killing Jisung inside. He had to apologize, had to make sure Minho knew how sorry he was.

The older paused, finally glancing over his shoulder. “I thought you didn’t want to be seen with a fag like me.”

The words were filled with venom, feeling like a direct shot to Jisung’s heart and twisting painfully in his chest. He knew he deserved that, but hearing how hurt Minho was, even after the long month they’d been apart, was heartbreaking all over again.

“Minho, I-” Jisung’s throat felt tight, already feeling like he wanted to start crying again. He’d rehearsed his apology a million times, but suddenly it all flew out the window, the younger just babbling out words in the form of an apology, trying his best to convey to him how deeply, truly sorry he was. “I’m so sorry, Minho. What happened that night, how I behaved and what I said, or tried to say, how I treated you, it was so wrong of me. It was vile, and cruel, and I hurt you so, so bad. I was scared, and confused, I didn’t understand what to do between what my heart wanted and what my head was telling me. I was afraid of what kissing you meant for me, about the pain it would cause me with my family and the church and just… I was in denial. I pushed you away because I thought it was the best way to prove that I wasn’t… who i am.”

Minho’s face was emotionless, staring blankly at the younger, but he wasn’t walking away at least, so Jisung considered it a win.

“I was so scared, and I still am, so horribly, overwhelmingly scared,” Jisung admitted shakily. “But that doesn’t matter, none of my pain or fears matter, because I took them out on the person I care about the most. I took my internal problems, and I pushed them onto you. It was so wrong and unfair of me. I hurt you, you trusted me with so much and I broke that trust in the snap of a finger because I was too wrapped up in my own head to care about anything but myself in that moment.” Jisung took a shaky breath. “Minho, you mean more to me than any of my fears or problems ever could, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for how I betrayed you that night. If you can’t find it in your heart to forgive me, if I’ve broken this beyond repair, then- then I understand. I just wanted you to know how sorry I am.”

Minho’s eyes softened as he stared at the boy across the alley from him, but not to the fondness and care Jisung was used to seeing. Instead, they were just sad.

“I was only trying to help you, you know?” Minho admitted after a long pause, fumbling with the sleeves of his green hoodie. “When I looked at you, I saw me, a few years ago. I saw a boy in denial about who he was, being tormented by it. I couldn’t bear to see someone go through that kind of pain like I had, let alone someone who I-” Minho stopped, shaking his head as if to clear a thought from his mind. “It was like torture, watching the way you’d one day clearly want to be closer to me and the next avoid my touch like it was the plague. You were at war with yourself and I knew if someone wasn’t there for you when you figured it out, you’d fall apart and probably hate yourself as much as I had. I didn’t want that to happen to you…” Minho’s hands squeezed into fists at his side. “I can’t do this anymore, Sung. I can’t keep trying to help you, when all it does is hurt me. I know you’re struggling, but if I keep this up I’m going to drown the way I was before, and I can’t let that happen to me. I have to protect and worry about myself now. No one else will.”

“I will.”

Minho looked back up at the younger, taken aback by the statement.

“I will protect you, Minho. I want to. Honestly, that’s all I’ve wanted for a long time, even before I… Before I came to terms with my feelings for you.” Jisung stepped forward, boldly deciding to close the distance between himself and the older boy. “You’re such an amazing person, Min,” he whispered. “You’re so kind, loving, concerned about everyone around you. You make me so happy, and I didn’t even realize it, but this whole time I’ve just been falling for you, for the cute church boy with the pretty smile and sparkling eyes.” Jisung laughed fondly to himself, smiling up at Minho with hopeful eyes. “And to think, this whole time I thought I was trying to protect you, but you were the one trying to help me. I don’t think I can do this without you, Min. I’m still so scared, so uncertain about everything involving who I am, but if there’s one thing I know for sure, it's that I like you, so, so much, and that I wanna be there for you, protect you, comfort you on your bad days, stand by you, and love you through it all. I want to learn how to be okay with who I am, just like you are. Please, Min, please stay with me.”

Jisung hadn’t realized he was crying until Minho’s thumb came up to gently wipe away a tear, a soft, sad, yet fond smile curling on Minho’s lips. His hand moved to cup the younger’s cheek, brushing his cheekbone lightly as he moved in to place a loving kiss to Jisung’s forehead.

“Okay Jisungie,” Minho whispered against his skin. “I’ll stay,”

It felt like the weight of the world was lighted off of his shoulders, and Jisung lunged forward to pull Minho into a tight embrace, burying his face into the older’s chest to attempt to muffle his relieved cries. Minho could only shush him gently, petting the younger’s hair as he placed another kiss atop Jisung’s head.

“It’s okay, Jisungie, it’ll be okay now,” he assured softly. “And it’s okay, I forgive you, for everything.”

  
  


Jisung wondered what amazing thing he had to have done in his past life to get Lee Minho.

They began dating in secret, though really it wasn’t much different than how they were before, since they couldn’t go on dates in public, but there was the added bonus of a lot more kissing.

The first time they kissed again after making up, even the second and third time, it was hard. Jisung wanted to kiss Minho, and he liked it a lot, but everytime he did, he couldn’t shake the thoughts that came to the forefront of his mind. Hell, the first time, Jisung nearly descended into a full panic attack, Minho having to calm the younger down and hold him close just to keep him from breaking into hysterics.

Minho was so patient, making sure that whatever they did, holding hands, cuddling, kissing, that Jisung was completely okay with it. He took his time with the younger, moving slow so Jisung could have time to adjust. Minho knew that the mindset that had been drilled into Jisung’s head wouldn’t just go away in a few days, having experienced it himself, and he assured Jisung that it was okay, that it would take time but Minho would help him through it.

Minho really was an angel. 

They spent a lot of nights curled up together in Jisung’s bed, the older sneaking in through Jisung’s window on the night’s when his family was home, and spending many hours cuddling or making out when they weren’t. Jisung had never been so enamored by another human before, never felt like his entire being was being swallowed by someone’s existence. He couldn’t get enough of the boy in every way, his eyes, his laugh, his voice, his smile, his touch, his skin, his lips. He fell for the boy, so, so hard, and it would’ve been scary if Minho didn’t have such a special talent for making his fears and insecurities disappear.

Minho was his now, and he was Minho’s, and there was something so amazing about that fact, something that made Jisung’s heart swell with happiness at the thought of how he was dating the most perfect boy in existence. Jisung had placed his heart into Minho’s hands, but he knew that it would be well taken care of, because even if Minho didn’t tell him every day, he knew Minho felt exactly the same.

The hardest part was keeping their secret relationship, well, a secret. Not reaching for Minho’s hand in the halls when they were walking, keeping himself from leaning in for small kisses of affection while they sat together at lunch, not simply staring at the beautiful boy was almost painful at times, but Jisung knew it was for the best. Sure, he wished he could show the world that Minho was his the way other couples at school and around town could, but it wasn’t safe for them to do so, and he knew that very well. The nightmares made sure to remind him of it all the time.

Jisung was still terrified of the world finding out the truth about him, about him being with Minho, and he was kept awake at night by the thoughts of everything bad that could happen to Minho when the younger wasn’t with him, but he tried to have hope. He tried to let Minho’s words reassure him, that no one would find out about him, that they would be safe, and that Minho would stay away from fights for Jisung’s sake. They only had a few months left of school now, and then they wouldn’t have to deal with those people anymore. What would happen after they graduated, they weren’t quite sure, since both planned to attend university, but they were both moving to a school in Seoul, away from their families and their reputation with their peers. With luck, they could be together, in secret, without having to glance over their shoulders as much.

  
  


“Do you think we’ll move in together in university?” Jisung asked one night, laying on his bed and staring up at the ceiling. The sound of faint music drifted in the air from the stereo on the desk, and Minho hummed softly from his seat on the floor, where he was working on an assignment.

“We’ll have to get through the first year of assigned housing,” Minho replied, turning to look over at the boy. “But afterwards we can sign up to be roommates, and then after school housing is done, we could get a place together in the city.”

Jisung smiled at the thought, turning over to his side to look back at the older. “I’d like that.”

Minho smiled softly, reaching his hand up to hold Jisung’s at the edge of the bed. “I’d like that too.”

They sat there, just enjoying the feel of the other’s hand in their own, until the song on the stereo changed, and Jisung immediately perked up.

“I love this song!” the brunette exclaimed with a bright smile, immediately beginning to hum along to the tune. It was some western song, one that Minho vaguely remembered hearing at some point in his life, with clear guitar and balladic vocals. Minho couldn’t help but smile back, watching his boyfriend sway his head to the music, before standing up, pulling the younger with him.

“What-” Jisung was cut off as Minho tugged him close with a sly smile, holding one hand firmly in his own, and the other coming to rest on the younger’s waist. Jisung felt a blush rise to his cheeks as Minho began to make them sway to the music, smiling lovingly up at the boy and resting his other hand on Minho’s shoulder. Jisung didn’t exactly peg his boyfriend to be a dancer, the type to slow dance in a bedroom to random songs on the radio, but he loved it. He loved how delicately Minho held onto him, but firmly and protectively, holding him close to his body, eyes glistening with adoration as he led their movements, slowly twirling in a circle as the song progressed. It felt like something out of a movie or a romance novel. After a few moments, Minho leaned down, resting his forehead against Jisung’s as they listened to the lyrics.

_ “Even when I dream of you, the sweetest dream will never do cause I’d miss you, babe, and I don’t wanna miss a thing.” _

Jisung thought it was perfect, thought the song just captured everything about his feelings for the boy holding him so closely. He was afraid to say it quite yet, but that moment made him certain.

Jisung absolutely loved Minho, and knew he would for the rest of his life.

  
  


The bliss, as the world would have it, could only last for so long. They could only have so much freedom before whispers began to rise around them, rumors and questions about the nature of Minho and Jisung’s friendship. Jisung prayed they weren’t spreading too far, but when his mom confronted him one day, telling him she’d started hearing strange rumors about him from people at church, he realized that maybe he’d really been found out, and the ever familiar fear came right back, stronger than ever.

Jisung was primarily scared about his parents, knowing that if the truth came out and they caught him and Minho together, they would kick him out to the street in a heartbeat. If that happened, he’d have nowhere to go, no one he could stay with. With no job or family aside from them, Jisung would end up homeless, and as a rumored gay kid, that would defninitely not end well for him.

Jisung hadn’t, however, considered the idea of other people finding out or believing the rumors, and choosing to target him the way they did Minho. Of course Jisung was cautious, but he still thought he’d be safe because he wasn’t out the way Minho was.

Unfortunately for him, he was wrong.

He had been walking home from the grocery store one evening, picking up some things for his parents while they were once again away on a business trip. Jisung was counting down the days at this point until they could graduate, a mere week away, and then it would only be a couple months until they left town for university. They could hold out, Jisung promised himself. Just a little longer until they were free.

He had been so lost in thought that he didn’t see the group of boys loitering in the alley he was passing, didn’t see them lunge for him until it was too late and there was a hand clamped around his mouth, dragging him backwards into the shadows, the bag of groceries clattering to the ground, shattering like Jisung’s reality. He screamed against the attacker, flailing around in an attempt to break loose, but they were far too strong, and soon enough he was thrown to the grimy, oil slick cement of the alley floor, immediately being met with a couple harsh kicks to the ribs. He coughed harshly as the air was knocked from his lungs, tears of pain springing to his eyes as he looked up, trying to determine who he was up against.

There were four of them, and though Jisung recognized the faces, he didn’t know their names, just some of the many people he’d seen in passing at school or around town. Their smiles were twisted, sinister looking, and Jisung could smell the overwhelming stench of alcohol and cigarettes wafting off of them. He figured they must’ve come from the bar down the street.

“What are you doing out here at this time of night, queer?” One of them spat, making Jisung flinch back.

“Probably out looking for another guy to fuck,” one of the others responded.

The first one reached forward, dragging Jisung up by his shirt collar and pinning him to the wall. “I can’t believe we have to deal with another one of you disgusting fags in this town.”

Jisung was shaking in the man’s grip, able to do nothing but stare with wide eyes as a fist collided with his jaw. He cried out in pain, but could form no words of protest. He was petrified in fear.

“I bet the Lee fag pinned him down just like this when he fucked him,” the third one finally spoke with a sick laugh, landing a blow to Jisung’s torso.

“Did you like his dick in your ass? You fucking freak,” the fourth one sneered.

Another fist, then another. Jisung’s head was splitting, sharp pains stabbing him throughout his body as he was bombarded with attacks. All he could do was attempt to shield himself with his arms, whimpering in pain and pleading for them to stop.

“Please stop,” he cried, collapsing to the dirty floor once more when they released their grip on him. For a moment, he thought that maybe they were done, that they were finally bored and would leave, but all hope left his body as the 18 year old heard the distinct click of a switchblade, the silver metal glinting dangerously in the streetlight.

Jisung was pretty sure the sound he made wasn’t even human, his body scrambling backwards on instinct in an attempt to distance himself from the looming weapon, but he knew it was over for him the moment his back hit the wall. There was no escape for him, Jisung was pinned.

He was going to die, alone, in an alley, the very thing Minho had feared happening to himself. His blood ran like ice in his veins, breath coming fast and shallow as his mind raced with the many ways the men could kill him. Would they stab him and watch him bleed out? Disembowel him? The many sickening, twisted ways they could torture him was endless. Maybe he’d get lucky and they’d slit his throat, letting him die quickly, though the chances of that were slim at best.

The blade loomed closer, and Jisung didn’t care that he was sobbing, incoherently begging for his life in front of these strangers. Despite his mouth and body fighting for his survival, his mind was elsewhere, flitting to the only person who’d miss him. He didn’t want to leave Minho behind, leaving the older alone in this cruel town, with his parents who’d rather pretend he didn't exist, a school that didn’t care if he wound up dead. Minho needed him, he promised he’d protect him, he couldn’t die here, not now. This wasn’t fair.

Jisung hadn’t even told Minho he loved him yet.

Those seconds were agonizing, and just as he thought the man would lunge forward and plunge the blade into Jisung’s body, he squeezed his eyes shut, saying one final prayer for God to watch over Minho, waiting for the pain he was sure to endure.

But it didn’t come. Instead, Jisung heard a rough voice, echoing along the walls of the alley.

“You lot better get lost before I arrest you for loitering.”

Jisung heard disgruntled mutters and footsteps before slowly opening his eyes, seeing the retreating silhouettes of his attackers. Relief flooded his system like a drug, but before he could cry from just how overwhelmed he was, the same rough voice from before spoke again.

“You’re the Han boy, right?” It was an officer, standing at the entrance of the alley a few feet from his cop car. Jisung nodded, afraid to speak in case his voice cracked and he began sobbing on the spot. “Let me give you a ride home, son.”

Jisung gathered what few non broken groceries he could from the mess before sitting in the passenger seat of the car, allowing the officer to begin down the street in the direction of his home. They were probably only about ten minutes away.

Jisung couldn’t wrap his head around what had just happened, and the fear and adrenaline still hadn’t worn off. His nerves were still frayed, tears still threatening to spill, and all he could think about was the glinting silver of that switchblade. Thank God the officer had seen what was happening.

“I go to church with you and your family,” the dark haired officer commented after a few minutes of silence. “I’m glad I was able to recognize it was you.”

Jisung nodded noncommittally.

“You really shouldn’t be out at this time when you’re alone. Someone like you is just asking to get hurt.”

Jisung gave a confused glance to the office. “What do you mean?” he finally asked, voice scratchy and thick.

“With you being gay,” the officer responded. “If it hadn’t been me you would’ve been dead.”

Jisung thought his eyes would bug out of his head. “I’m not-”

The officer paid his objection no mind. “People in this town don’t take nicely to your kind, kid.”

_ Your kind. _ People knew,  _ everyone  _ knew his secret. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, it was out. They knew he was gay, and he’d nearly just been killed for it.

Why did it feel like the world was spinning? It was suddenly unbearably hard to breathe, and Jisung was afraid he’d pass out on the spot. He mumbled a request for the officer to pull over for a moment, before he was stumbling out of the car, ignoring the man’s calls for him to come back as he began to run. Everything was numb, his mind, body, all he knew was that he had to get away, had to find somewhere safe. It felt like even through the dark of the night and the shadowed streets, everyone was watching him, everyone knowing the truth about what he was. He wasn’t safe. He had to get away.

Jisung didn’t stop running until he stumbled through the front door of his family’s home, closing the door with shaking hands before collapsing to the floor. His limbs felt numb, sobs choking from his throat as he struggled to breathe and tears blurred his vision. He somehow managed to crawl to the landline, fingers shaking terribly as he dialed the number he’d memorized months ago, praying that the older was home.

“Lee residence.”

“M-M-Minho-” Jisung choked out through the uncontrollable sobs.

“Sung? Sungie what’s wrong? Are you okay?” The older’s voice was urgent, obvious concern seeping through the words over the phone.

“N-no,” Jisung cried. “I n-n-need you. P-please, MInho. I-I-” He couldn’t force out anymore words before more sobs tore from his throat, halting his pleas for the older. Thankfully, no more needed to be said for Minho to understand the kind of state his boyfriend was in.

“Jisungie, I need you to try to breathe for me, okay? Just take deep breaths. I’m going to head over right now, and I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just focus on breathing for me. I’ll see you soon.”

Jisung let the phone clatter to the floor once Minho hung up, curling up in a ball on the ground as he tried and ultimately failed to calm himself down. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything beyond the debilitating fear coursing through his system. The floor was swallowing him alive, and he was falling, falling, falling into nothingness and despair. All he could do was cry burning hot tears, and pray for it to end.

He didn’t know how long he laid there before he heard the faint sound of a familiar voice, calling his name. He wasn’t sure how, but he somehow ended up in a tight, protective embrace, his face buried in a familiar sweater and the scent of cinnamon and pine surrounding him. Gentle fingers combed through his hair as the voice finally became clearer, whispering calmly in his ear.

“Deep breaths, Sungie,” Minho whispered to him. “Deep breaths. You’re here, you’re safe, I’ve got you now. You’re okay, everything is okay.”

The feeling in his limbs slowly came back, and Jisung realized he was gripping Minho’s sweater for dear life, clinging to his boyfriend like a lifeline as his sanity slowly came back to him. They were still on the floor, Minho seated with him as the older held him in his arms, doing everything he could to soothe the younger as he calmed down. Eventually, Jisung was able to breathe again, his heart still hammering, but not like it was before.

Jisung hesitantly pulled back, sniffling as he wiped the remaining tears from his eyes. Looking up, he met Minho’s concerned gaze, the older’s hand reaching out to brush over Jisung’s cheekbone, followed by a frown at the notice of the swelling building in his boyfriend’s face.

“What happened?” He asked quietly.

Jisung’s lip trembled. “They know,” he stuttered. “Everyone knows about me, about us.”

Minho shook his head. “They’re just rumors,” he assured. “Nobody actually knows anything for sure, Sungie, I promise.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Another tear slipped from Jisung’s eye. “They believe it. My parents, our classmates, the church, everyone believes that I’m gay now. I know we were both in danger before, but- but now…”

Jisung remembered the glint of the knife, remembered the debilitating fear, the sinister glint in those mens’ eyes. His hands squeezed into tight fists, panic beginning to rise in his chest once more. Noticing this, Minho grabbed the younger’s hands, getting his grip to release and lacing their fingers together. Although it did little to relieve the fear, Jisung was grateful nonetheless.

“I was attacked,” Jisung whispered. Minho tensed harshly, jaw setting as the older’s gazed hardened intensely, anger visibly present.

“Who?” Minho nearly spat the question.

“I don’t know,” Jisung sniffled. “Some random drunks from a bar. They knew who I was though, and they pulled me into an alley, kicked me, punched me, said… horrible things about me and you. And then they-” Jisung’s throat tightened, another sob attempting to force its way out as he retold the events of the past hour. The firm grip on his hands from Minho was the only thing keeping him from breaking down again. “They pulled a knife, Minho.”

Minho took an audibly shaky breath, tugging the younger closer and wrapping him in another tight embrace. Jisung shook in his hold, doing everything he could to keep from sobbing again.

“They were going to kill me, Min,” Jisung mumbled against his boyfriend’s hoodie, tears soaking into the fabric. “I couldn’t fight back, couldn’t defend myself, and I was going to die in a stupid alley. I was so scared, so so scared. If it hadn’t been for an officer that recognized me from church, I would’ve died there, I would be gone.”

Minho kissed the top of his boyfriend’s head comfortingly, fighting his own tears at the thought of the fate Jisung nearly met. “I’m so sorry, Jisungie. I can’t even- I should’ve been there to protect you, baby.”

Jisung looked up tearfully, shaking his head. “You couldn’t have known,” he responded.

Minho rested his forehead against Jisung’s, taking a deep breath. “Let’s get you cleaned up and into bed, okay? You need to rest.”

Minho carefully patched up Jisung’s many scrapes and bruises, watching the distant look in his boyfriend’s eyes carefully. He could tell Jisung was deeply shaken by what had happened, and all innocence and sense of safety had been stolen from him the moment those bastards laid a hand on him. Nothing would be the same now, the fear Minho had had for himself was now rooted in Jisung too, both having to face the worst of humanity’s cruelty simply for loving each other. It was unfair.

When the two settled down into Jisung’s bed, the younger held protectively in his boyfriend’s arms, it was well past midnight, though neither of them really felt tired.

“What if they try again?” Jisung asked quietly. “What if they follow us to our homes? What if no matter what we do, we’ll never be safe? I’m afraid we won’t even make it to move to Seoul…”

“We will.”

“But what if we don’t? What if someone gets to you when I’m not there, and you’re killed? I can’t- I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. I don’t want to lose you.”

Minho tightened his hold on the younger, rolling over to face him on the small bed. “You won’t lose me, I promise, okay Jisungie?” He connected their lips gently, hoping to help melt away his boyfriend’s fears.

“I love you.” The confession tumbled from Jisung’s lips as soon as they parted, leaving the older to blink at him.

“You love me?” Minho asked, his eyes sparkling hopefully.

Jisung nodded with a small, nervous chuckle. “More than anything.”

Minho connected their lips again, unable to hide the smile present in the kiss. “I love you too, Jisungie. Forever and ever.”

Jisung smiled back, loving the way the dim street light filtering through the window made Minho’s eyes seem to glow. “I’m afraid,” He admitted. “But I know we can face this together.”

Minho nodded, tracing light patterns into the skin under Jisung’s shirt. “There’s… something I need to talk to you about, Sung.”

Jisung raised his eyebrows in inquiry.

“My parents talked to me yesterday,” he began. “They wanted to talk about… you know, me. Being gay.” Jisung nodded for the older to continue. “A couple days after we graduate, they’re sending me to a special religious camp for gay kids… for conversion therapy.”

Jisung’s eyes widened, stomach twisting painfully. He had heard horrible, terrifying stories about what they do at these supposed “conversion therapies,” about electrocutions, lobotomies, surgeries, and though he wasn’t even sure if those kind of things were even legal now, the idea of Minho being forced to undergo any of the rumored torturous procedures or activities made the younger feel like vomiting.

“No,” he squeaked out. “No, Minho you can’t go to one of those! They’ll hurt you, you can’t go there!” He shook his head rapidly, hands gripping the older’s shirt tightly as though it would be able to keep him from going.

Minho shushed the younger, reaching up to cup Jisung’s face. “I have no intention of letting them send me away,” he assured. “That’s why I’m leaving after we graduate.”

“You’re… leaving?”

Minho nodded. “I have an old friend that lives across the country,” he told him. “His name is Chan, and he’s gay too. He lives in an area that’s a lot safer for people like us, and he offered for me to come stay with him until university starts.”

“O-oh.” So Minho would be moving across the country to live with his friend. It made sense, and it would certainly be safer than going to conversion therapy, but Jisung couldn’t help the pang of jealousy and dejectment taking root in his heart. Would they try to continue their relationship over the few months they wouldn’t be together? Jisung would be left in this awful town all alone, and just after being nearly killed. What if while Minho was gone, the older decided he didn’t like Jisung that much anymore? What if he became more interested in this Chan guy? What if Minho had no intention of continuing their relationship after they graduated at all? “That’s good,” Jisung said anyway. “You should go. You’ll be safer with him.” Chan could protect Minho better than Jisung ever could.

Minho obviously noticed the change in Jisung’s mood, the way his face fell and tone sounded like the younger was trying not to cry. Minho frowned. “Sungie, I’m not leaving you.”

Despite the tear falling to the pillowcase beneath his head, Jisung shook his head. “No, you need to go. You can’t stay here, and you can’t go to that camp either. It’s better for you to leave. It’s okay.” Jisung’s words choked at the end, a sob breaking free despite his internal protests.

Minho pulled Jisung closer, hushing his cries as he realized what Jisung was thinking. “You silly, selfless idiot,” he whispered over his boyfriend’s cries. Taking his boyfriend’s tear stained face into his hands, he looked the younger in the eyes. “I’m not going unless you’re coming with me, Sung. I’m not going to leave you in this stupid town alone to fend for yourself.”

“W-what?”

“Chan offered for me to come, and I asked him if I could bring you too. It’ll be tight, but he has room for both of us. I would never dream of leaving the boy I love behind, even for a few months.” Minho smiled fondly. “I love you too much for that. So Sungie,” he giggled, “will you run away with me?”

Jisung answered the question by crashing his lips into the older’s, the kiss tasting a bit salty from Jisung’s tears, but still so sweet. Jisung could get lost forever in Minho’s taste, loving how perfectly their lips slotted together, like two halves of one whole. That’s what Minho and Jisung were: two halves of a whole, soulmates. Jisung had no doubt they were made for one another.

“Yes,” Jisung finally whispered. “I’ll run away with you.”

  
  


They only had to wait a week before graduation arrived, but the whole lead up was spent preparing to leave rather than celebrating their success. Between the two, they had enough money stashed to buy two bus tickets halfway there, and Chan would meet them at their last stop to drive the remaining distance. They discussed what to pack, where they would meet, and how they would handle their parents.

Minho was just going to leave. He didn’t owe his parents the kindness of saying goodbye considering they didn’t even treat him like their own child, so leaving without saying anything felt fitting. Minho even joked that he doubted his parents would notice his absence until the day he was supposed to leave for camp arrived. It was a sad thought, no matter how funny Minho thought it was.

Jisung, however, was torn. His parents couldn’t stop him from leaving, but he knew they wouldn’t want him to. He couldn’t confront them in person, and was honestly afraid of what they would say if it came to him revealing his sexuality, but it didn’t feel right to leave without saying goodbye either. Despite how cruel his parents had treated him on the subject of his rumored sexuality, they had still raised him, and deep down, he still loved them, even though he was certain their love wouldn’t be reciprocated for long. It was a kind of sick situation to be in, to still love the people who would hate him for who he loved, but he couldn’t help it. They had raised him, and until recently, he’d spent his whole life being loved and cared for by them. Cutting them out of his life and leaving them behind was anything but easy.

Minho suggested he leave a note, and the older sat with him, rubbing soothing circles into the back of the younger’s younger’s free hand as he wrote it.

_ Mom and Dad - _

_ I’m gay. There, I said it. I know you’ve heard the rumors, I’m sure you’ve suspected it for a while, but this is me finally admitting it. I’m gay, and I fell in love with a boy. _

_ I know this is something you are strongly against, and you told me enough times that I’d be disowned if the rumors were true for me to know what happens next, so I’m saving you the trouble. I’m leaving, and you’ll never have to see me again. You can tell people I went to live with family, or even that I died, if it will save you the shame of admitting you had a gay son. _

_ Had. I’m no longer your son, I guess, as of now. I’m a lost cause to you, I get that, so don’t worry, I won’t be coming around again to bother you. You can pretend I never existed. _

_ For the record, I still love and worship Him. That hasn’t changed, even though you and the church have given me every reason to hate my faith. Gay people are human, we aren’t sinners, and we aren’t sick. I didn’t choose to be this way, but I’m sorry for being a disappointment.  _

_ Thank you for raising me. This is goodbye. _

_ \- Jisung _

When the day finally came, Jisung placed the letter on the table, duffle bag filled with his birth certificate, diploma, clothes, and other important trinkets slung over his shoulder. He met Minho a couple blocks down, the older greeting him with a warm smile, before they began to walk together to the bus stop.

They were finally escaping, finally leaving their cruel, horrible town. Soon they would be living in a safer place, and then go to university so they could pursue their careers. And through it, they would be together, hand in hand, facing the world. The world may turn its back on them, sneer at them for how they lived, but Jisung knew in his heart that this was right. Loving Minho was right, and he couldn’t be happier to have met the boy. Minho changed his life, helped him come to terms with who he was, and helped him be okay with what that meant. Jisung would go to the ends of the earth with Minho by his side if he had to, no questions asked. 

The two lovers boarded their bus, sitting down in the back, hands intertwined between them beneath a discreetly placed bag. As long as they had each other, they would be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed <3
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/crownlino)  
> [CuriousCat](curiouscat.me/nyxxstay)


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